Illicit Honeymoon

I went back to our cabin.

Over an hour later, a naked Laura appeared, mahogany in the open door, the moonlight baring the white triangles of her breasts, and the line of her absent bikini bottom, right to her white cunt. Water was dripping down her body. Something else, thicker, and creamy white, was dripping from her protruding labia. Thai cum.

"Hi," she said. "I hope you enjoyed the show."

It was still early, not yet ten, but it had been a long day. To catch the tourist speed boat that had brought us here we had had to get up at six, having gone to bed late the night before, the same night that we had talked into the small hours about the group sex and the fuck buddy flat mates, and that same night that we had fucked twice, once before she had told me everything she had, and once when she was on top and still telling me the details of how she had let those guys fuck her one after the other.

So I was tired from lack of sleep, from the early start, from snorkelling, from following the turtle, and even more so, from watching my wife with those two guys.

I guess that she was tired too. She had had just as little sleep, the same early start, the same snorkelling, following the turtle, the same afternoon on the beach, sunbathing naked, more snorkelling, fondled and fingered as she was swimming by those guys, and she had also just been fucked, not once, but twice, and for all I knew in the hour that had just passed they had taken second turns with her. That was enough to tire out anyone.

We were both tired, too tired to talk. Laura dried herself down, lay down on the bed beside me, and fell asleep. I lay awake, thinking, coming to terms with what had happened, all of it.

What Laura had told me about her flatmates and their friends might have been true, or it might have been a tease. Even if she had made it up, it was not the way I wanted to be treated, to have doubts thrown into my head, to have my wife playing mind games with me, only two weeks into our marriage.

What had happened on the beach was not something made up. I had seen it. It had happened for real. That was how little my new wife felt about having sex with other guys, and how little she felt about me. I was tired, but I was also angry. Our marriage was a sham.

Looking back, I am amazed at how rapidly I made decisions and acted on them. This kind of marriage was not for me I needed to get out, and I knew just what I would do, that night, the next day, and when I got back to London.

The Thai boat crew just want to see your ticket, and at two the following afternoon I showed them mine. They did not ask about my wife. I was not entirely sure that she would not appear, but when the boat took off with no sign of her, I breathed more easily. Our boat was the last to leave, and the next boats returning from the island would not be until the following day. Laura would spend one more night at least, on our dream island. By then I would be on my flight home.

It was strange boarding the plane alone that night, sitting with a vacant seat between mine and the guy sitting by the window. As the crew prepared for take-off, he commented about an obvious no show. I said nothing. I was travelling alone. The empty seat was nothing to do with me. We both enjoyed a little more space than flying economy usually provides.

Twenty hours later, I was in the flat that we had rented, unpacking my one suitcase, then setting up my laptop and placing an advert for a room to rent on Gumtree. I would need someone to move in with me, another flat share, to help pay the bills, because there was no way that I would want a woman who fucked around to be my wife a moment longer than the lawyers could file the papers for our divorce.

Whether the way I left her went too far, I am not sure. I guess it was the quiet rage that built up inside me after watching Laura with those guys, that made me do the things I did. Taking Laura's backpack along with mine was perhaps unfair. She had slept naked, and I had shoved all her clothes into her back pack while she had been sleeping. I had left it with mine for the morning by the same tree that was the arrive and depart location for overnighters, and had carried both of them onto the boat when it was time to leave.

No one seemed to have wondered why I was travelling back to the mainland carrying two backpacks and not just one. After the boat had docked, and everyone else was walking on down the jetty, I had lagged behind, a backpack on each shoulder. Half way down the jetty I had let Laura's slip. The splash had been minimal. It had sunk like the proverbial stone. No one had noticed.

Back at the hotel, the manager had accepted my explanation that Laura had gone on to the airport, and he had given me both of the cases containing our main luggage from the hotel store room. I guess the taxi driver might have wondered what was going on, when I asked him to stop the car on the bridge to Phuket, and got him to open the trunk so that I could get out one of my cases, Laura's case. The drop from the bridge to the water was a good hundred feet, and it made satisfying viewing, watching the black case fall, and then water splashing up so high, yet so far below. The driver had just shrugged. These tourists do some stupid things.

Maybe I should have left her passport. How long it took for her to get replacement papers, I do not know. Starting from waking naked, with no credit cards or cash, or even her ticket for the boat ride back, I guess it might have been something of a challenge. Maybe she had to pay in kind for any help that she was given, like the Thai guy's sister, who fucked foreigners for university fees. Maybe Laura had had to pay her way for something to wear, for the trip back to the mainland, and then to the consulate, or wherever she would think to go for help. I still do not know just how she got back, although I know she did.

Maybe tying her to the bed was also a step too far, but I had needed to make sure she did not get out of the cabin until I had left the island. Her two bikinis had come in useful. The fact that our bed was in fact two single wooden beds, basic platforms each supported on four legs, pushed side by side, had been fortuitous. It is amazing what you can do to improvise when you need to.

It had taken a bit of hacking with a pen-knife, to cut the breast and crotch triangles from the elasticated straps of each of the bikinis. The bra and bottom straps from each bikini gave me four loops of elasticated fabric. Two went around her ankles while she was sleeping, pulling the loop through itself to make it tight, lifting the bed that she was on to get the loops under the bed legs. The other two worked to secure her wrists, but using the string neck ties as well, so that she could not et free by just sliding her slender hands out.

Laura had slept soundly throughout, even when I was shifting her gently, moving her until she was on her side of the bed, lying on her back, and easing her legs apart, so that her ankles were close enough to the corners of the bed to let me tie them to the legs of the bed. Of course I had had to do it slowly, stage by stage, setting aside the conflicting thoughts as I eased her naked body into position, admiring her perfect breasts, her slender frame, her hairless pubis, those protruding lips, but eyeing with revulsion the sheen on her inner thigh that was dried semen from her late night fucking on the beach.

The huts were relatively isolated, and ours was the only one in use, but still I had not wanted to risk her being found before I had left the island. Whatever else, I did not want her crying out. I slipped a pillow out of its case, and twisted the thin cotton pillow case several times, thinking I could tie it around her mouth as a gag. Gags work better with something in the mouth. I scrunched up the two lycra crotch triangles from her bikinis. They would do.

If you hold someone's nose while they are fast asleep, they will open their mouth to breathe. I pushed the crotch triangles inside Laura's mouth and released her nose. This time she woke, but not before I had the twisted pillow case tie was between her teeth. Even as she was opening her eyes and taking in what was happening, I was tying a knot behind her neck.

Of course she struggled. She tried to plead with me, wide eyed, head turning frantically from side to side, trying to speak but emitting only dull grunts and squeaks. I might have weakened, but that sheen of semen ensured that I stayed resolved. Now that my soon to be ex-wife had been secured, that was how she was going to stay, at least until I had left without her.

Watching her struggle, I had thought of one more thing that I could do. The cut off bikini straps that secured her to the bed were holding. Her legs were splayed, her cunt available. I could fuck the bitch one final time. I could hammer her cunt as punishment for her not just breaking our marriage vows, but for making them in the first place with no intention of living up to what they meant.

It was the same sheen of semen that made me push that thought out of my head. I did not want to go where those guys had been. She was not worth fucking. Instead, I waited until she had given up struggling, pulled the second bed away from hers, and lay down to get some sleep before the morning.

Walking out of that cabin, carrying our two backpacks, I looked back one final time. My wife for not much longer was awake then too. She had given up struggling. She just looked at me, head raised, her eyes with that helpless look, begging me not to do this, not to leave her.

Sometimes you have to let your heart go cold. Besides, the coldness came from her. She had frozen all the warmth that I had felt for her. I closed the door and slipped the padlock through the hasp, rotating the tumblers to randomise the code.

I guessed, and guessed right, that the same woman who had been serving at the bar the night before also ran the tents and cabins. She was at the bar, ready to provide breakfasts to those who had stayed overnight, making coffee, eggs, bread or toast and jam. She was only too pleased when I said that we had decided to stay on, and gave her the payment for an extra night. I asked her if someone could make up the bed and clean the room. My wife was still sleeping, but if they could do it in the afternoon, after the day-trippers had left and the lunch area had closed down, that would be good. That was fine, she said. I hoped she understood, and that she would not forget.

I wondered, as I sat eleven hours on the plane, who would have found Laura inside the cabin, tied to the bed. Perhaps it was the woman herself, who had disapproved of the foreigner's display of naked breasts. Perhaps she had daughters, working in the mainland bars, having to wear dresses that said that their bodies were for sale and perhaps she resented foreigners coming to her country to buy sex cheaply, or to flaunt their bodies on the beaches so disrespectfully to her culture and beliefs.

Just maybe, she had invited some of the men who worked on the island, preparing the buffet lunches for the day-trippers, to enjoyed my wife before she was released. She had acted like a whore at the bar and had gone off with those two young guys so why not let the rest of the men on the island fuck the foreigner too.

Whatever happened, however she was released, whoever helped her, Laura did eventually get home. I know that now. What happened took place almost a year ago In all that time I have not seen her, but some friends have, a couple who knew us both, and who had sympathised with me when I explained to them why I had come back from our honeymoon on my own. They told me recently that they had bumped into her at a shopping centre only a week or so before.

Apparently, Laura looked well. She had been pushing a pram, and they had admired the baby lying inside, wide eyed and alert. She had looked so cute, they said. She had the beginnings of a fringe of baby hair, jet black like Laura's own. Her complexion, though, was darker, and she had dark oval eyes that narrowed at the sides.

Fucking the Thai guys had been nothing serious, my wife had told me, just a bit of fun.